


All Who Remain

by kevintheturkey



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A Oneshot that probably should've been split woops, AKA me trying to figure out what the hell Slipstream would b, Background Widowtracer and Pharmercy, Based on A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, Semi-Graphic description of Shrapnel wounds, but it is that angsty, its aged up in Beautiful Day terms, its not that //angsty//, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8611966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kevintheturkey/pseuds/kevintheturkey
Summary: Ever since she was a kid, all Lena had wanted to do was become a pilot. 
And look where that's gotten her so far.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7924030) by [TheOddCatLady95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOddCatLady95/pseuds/TheOddCatLady95). 



> Meg, will you ever finish a fic before writing another one?  
> No.  
> Enjoy.
> 
> This was inspired/based off of TheOddCatLady95's A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood! If you haven't read it, you should! It's great!

Hana was used to her childhood friends leaving the nest, flocking to new schools in different cities and fantastic jobs across the world. It’s what came with being the youngest. But it wasn’t like they didn’t come back, and in actuality they found every excuse to get together. 

Everyone in Hana’s great, big family was unique, like pieces of a jigsaw they were all the same and vastly different. And if one of them fell off the face of the Earth, they could never be whole again. 

 

They had all agreed to get together for Sombra and Hana’s open house.  

To the group of close-knit friends, the get-together meant more than a graduation. As the youngest two celebrated their first steps into adulthood, the rest of the family celebrated the final step out of the neighborhood. Their reign of terror was no longer confined to the intersection of Saddleback and Brown; they were going global, baby!

The only one with plans to arrive late was Lena, who couldn’t come earlier in the week due to a test flight the day before. 

Angela claimed a sense of dread the moment she saw Winston’s car pull around the bend. Everyone else felt it the moment he pulled up and got out of the car alone.

 

The airshow had been Jack’s idea, tired of going to arcades every other month where some different parents’ brats would run around and give his pink eye. 

“Besides,” he had pointed out, “what kid doesn’t like airplanes?”

Winston applied another coat of sunscreen to Lena’s arms, the six year old shaking in excitement.  

“Can I go yet?” She asked for the umpteenth time, eyes glued to where everyone else was showing their tickets and spreading towels over damp grass.

“Nope,” he replied, dabbing more goop onto his finger and rubbing it onto her already burnt face. She got sunburn faster than a ginger in the desert, a disadvantage for a kid who spent most of her time outside.

“I’m done now!” 

Not a moment later, she sprinted out of the car lot, chasing down the gaggle of Morrison and Reyes children. 

“No, Lena, come back! You need earplugs, Lena,” Winston exclaimed as he ran after his daughter. 

In the time it took to show his tickets and find a decent spot, Winston had already dragged Lena off the runway and away from two family picnics. 

Not for the first time, Winston considered buying a child harness as he struggled to get her to sit down and stay in her spot. Once the show began, however, he didn’t have a single problem. Not even the promise of ice cream could split Lena from the exhibit of master piloting. She watched barrel rolls, pull-up crosses, Immelmann turns, and hammerheads with wide eyes and full attention. 

Lena Oxton, age six, had just found her calling. 

 

Angela’s tense silence was starting to make her squirm in the clingy leather seat. 

Silence had never been her strong suit, always opting to find some common ground to defuse the uncomfortable atmosphere, even if it meant chatting her fellow’s ear off. But when it was one of her friends giving her the silent treatment, there was an impending feeling that she had done something wrong to upset them. Typically, she would think over the past few minutes to try and find what she had done wrong and try to correct it. The only problem being that she hadn’t done anything to her knowledge that would make Angela upset with her.

“Thanks for taking me to the AME, Angie. It means a lot that you’re coming with me,” Lena thanked, glancing to gauge her reaction. 

She gave a non-committal hum as she turned an intersection and continued her drive in silence. 

Her gaze darted back to the window, watching the empty fields whip past them as she bounced her leg and bit her lip, the only sound being the hiss of the road under the car’s tires. 

She loved Angela, and appreciated the fact that sometimes people didn’t want to talk, but goddammit if she didn’t pass the exam due to High Blood Pressure, she was never forgiving her.

“Did I do something wrong?” She finally asked as they slowed at a stoplight. 

“No!” Angela exclaimed, eyes wide with shock. 

“They why the bloody hell are you so quiet?” Lena asked in exasperation.

She sighed, her expression softening as the light turned and they continued to roll down the street. 

“I’m just worried about you,” she confessed. “I know I shouldn’t fight you on this, that I can’t, but what if your heart starts acting up again?”

“I haven’t had a heart issue in  _ years _ ,” she reminded her. “I don’t even have my Pacemaker anymore!”

“LQTS doesn’t just go away, Lena,” she spoke softly.

“I know.”

They pulled into a spot in front of the squat brown buildings, the fate of her career literally lying in front of her. 

“I just don’t want it to control me, I want to  _ live _ , Angie,” she explained, fiddling with the car lock. 

Angela blew out a puff of air, looking over at her friend with a concerned smile. 

“I know. Just...promise you’ll be careful.”

Lena giggled, her signature smile gracing her lips. “No plans on leavin’ ya anytime soon.”

 

Two days after her seventeenth birthday, Lena Oxton became the youngest person to ever receive a pilot’s license. 

“Free plane rides!” Hana had exclaimed when Lena arrived home with the sheet of paper and her widest grin. 

She laughed, “Only if you pay for gas!”

“Scrub!”

The biggest mistake that the family had ever made was thinking that Lena would stop there. 

 

“I need to tell you something,” she announced as she flopped onto the comically small loveseat Winston insisted on using. She propped her feet onto his lap, dragging his attention away from his book and towards her. 

“Is it important?” he asked as he side-eyed her. 

Lena feigned shock. “Everything I tell you is important,” she argued. 

“Last night you asked me if it was scientifically possible to grow corn dogs.”

“It would end world hunger!” She nudged his side with her foot, crinkling her nose. “And you’re changing the subject.”

Winston chuckled and put his book on the coffee table. “What did you want to tell me?”

That was question of the year, and Lena knew that she had to be careful with how she answered it. 

She bit her lip, thinking her words over before asking, “You know how I’m supposed to go to Purdue in the Fall?”

“Yes,” he answered tentatively, trying to see her angle. 

“I’m not going,” she admitted. She tensed, trying to gauge his reaction on the way his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed as he contemplated her meaning. 

God, he wasn’t happy with that, was he? He was going to make her re-enroll, force her to attend the university in a few months, live out the rest of her life as some Engineering major chained to the damned ground.

He burst into laughter, cradling her feet as he wiped a tear from his eye. “Thank God! For a second I thought you were going to tell me you were pregnant.”

“I’M GAY,” she shouted at him, shocked at his offensive gesture. Hadn’t they already covered this?

“One of many small miracles.” He patted her shins with a content smile as his laughter died. “And it’s okay to take a gap year to sort yourself out, Amélie and Satya did,” he reassured her. 

She felt worry and fear seep into her core as her offended look slipped back into unease. She began to fidget with her fingernails as she briefly considered not telling him.

“I’m,” she hesitated, “I’m not taking a gap year either.”

Winston frowned, brow drooping in thought. “You’re transferring?”

She bit her lip. “...kinda.”

“‘Kinda’?” He repeated in confusion.

Lena sucked in a deep breath, it was now or never. 

“I enlisted in the Air Force,” she admitted.

Winston’s expression didn’t change.

“Oh.”

It wasn’t necessarily a bad reaction, but there were far better scenarios than her adoptive father looking at her like a nasty equation. She didn’t need to analyze the silence to know where she went wrong, but she had no idea how to fix this.

“They offered a piloting position after boot,” she continued, unsure of what to do with herself. “Apparently they liked my piloting, and I’ve got good grades, and I passed the fitness test at the recruitment center, and I know a lot about planes. And when I finish my tours they’ll pay for my education, and I really want to do this, it seems like a good fit and--”

“When did you enroll?” Winston interrupted her rambling.

She shut her gob, trying to decide if he was upset with her or not. 

“Couple weeks ago,” she said curtly. 

“And when do you leave?”

“Two weeks,” she divulged, cringing at the proximity of her leave. “Morning after the open house.”

Winston shook his head and sighed, removing his glasses to rub where they sat on his squat nose. 

“This is what you want to do with your life? You’re committed to the Air Force?” He asked.

Lena nodded. “Yeah. I think it’s where I’m s’posed to be.”

“Then I support you,” he squeezed her calf, shooting her a worried glance, “just try to stay safe.”

In half a second, Lena had wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder.

“I will, thank you.”

He squeezed her back, planting a kiss to the top of her head.

“I love you, Lena.”

 

_ The Slipstream’s mission was to take a jet mid-flight and launch it into orbit without the use of a launchpad. Scientists and engineers alike had based the engine on theories involving teleportation and time displacement, if just to make the plane go faster without burning through all of the jet’s fuel.  _

_ The technology would have revolutionized aeronautics, allowing quicker travel between the moon, and providing aid to military endeavors and embassies. Hours-long flights would have been reduced to mere minutes.  _

_ The Air Force had selected their best pilot to test the Slipstream M-1, to save as much of the valuable tech as possible if any difficulties arose during the flight.  _

_ It didn’t help much. On the jet’s descent back to Earth, it experienced several critical malfunctions and imploded before the pilot could eject.  _

_ The Slipstream Project was closed soon after, the very engineers who created it claiming the technology was too volatile for safe use.  _

_ To honor the pilot’s seemingly useless sacrifice, the military awarded an honorary Astronautic title for her 90 minutes off-planet. _

_ At age 19, Lena Oxton was the youngest person to ever receive the title.  _

 

A party without Lena was like popcorn without butter. Sure, you can still eat it and it’ll taste fine, Angela would argue that it was healthier, and if you really wanted you can add salt to give it taste. But butter was what put popcorn on the list of most go-to snacks, a classic food that everyone loved, human and animal alike. Butter  _ made _ popcorn, even if it was only a part of it. 

Amélie wouldn’t say she was bored, but she was hardly entertained. That wasn’t to say Reinhardt couldn’t throw a party, because Reinhardt could throw a  **party** , it would just become more of a party when someone broke something playing Protect the Payload.

“Are you going to socialize, or sulk in the back?” Her brother’s familiar twang struck next to her. 

She took a calmed sip from her drink as she turned to Jesse.

“I’m waiting until the party starts,” she replied. 

He scoffed, “It’s an open house, there really isn’t much of a party to begin with.”

“There will be once Lena arrives,” she told him while she watched Ana spike the punch.

“Oh?” His lips quirked into a smug smile.

Amélie scowled, “Stop.”

“I’m not doing anything.” He raised his palms in good will, the smile remaining firmly in place. 

“Yes you are, you’re being annoying.” 

“Normal annoying,” he leaned in, mischief in his eyes, “or  _ Lena _ annoying?”

Amélie huffed in frustration, tossing the rest of her drink at Jesse’s too close face. She stomped off, leaving her brother doubled over in laughter. 

“Amélie!”

She spun to see Fareeha standing next to Angela, waving her over to the front porch.

After briefly deciding that they wouldn’t tease her over her conflicted love life, she made her way to where the porch shaded them from the bright sun. The smell of a barbeque and freshly mowed grass hung in humid Summer air. 

“Tell your step-sister she’s overreacting,” Fareeha demanded the moment she stepped out the front door. 

Of course, she mused, a catch.

She rolled her eyes, “Angela, whatever it is is not worth worrying.”

Angela gaped in disbelief, “You don’t even know what I’m worrying over!”

“I don’t need to.” She shrugged, mimicking the smile their brother had just given her. “I know you get...testy...over small matters.”

Fareeha nodded in agreement as Angela’s face contorted in frustration. 

“Winton’s back,” she spat out, “but Lena’s not with him.”

Her smile drooped into a frown, considering her words. “What do you mean? Wasn’t he supposed to pick her up?”

“Lena didn’t come back with Winston,” she repeated.

“Then who  _ did _ she come back with?” She asked, trying not to let any worry seep into her voice. 

She shook her head. “ _ If  _ she comes back, I don’t know who she’d be with.”

“If?” she squeaked, eyes widening at the notion that she might not see her  _ gal pal _ again. 

That her last memory would be watching her fight off the morning, Amélie’s purple duvet wrapped around her like a cocoon. Telling her off for staying overnight, asking what she wanted for breakfast. The lingering kiss she gave before her workout, tasting of sweat and--

“Look what you’ve done,” Fareeha nudged her fiancé, “she’s all worked up now.” She tsked, shaking her head at the two. She opened her mouth to add something when Winston shambled past them and stooped in the door frame, staring blankly at the wall. 

“Winston?” Angela approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

He shook his head, lip quivering. 

“She’s gone,” his voice cracked at the finality of his statement, tears trickling down his cheeks. “She’s never coming back.”

 

Lena stirred against the light as it danced across her eyelids, screwing them shut and curling deeper into the snug comforter. Inhaling the sweat and lavender that soaked the spread, she settled back into a light slumber.

“Did they let you sleep in this late at boot camp?” The sharp accent of Amélie’s soft voice flitted through Lena’s head like a spell, trying to drag her out of sleep. 

“This isn’t boot camp,” Lena slurred through her trance. 

She gave a soft snort, and she didn’t have to open her eyes to know that her lover was rolling her eyes. 

Lena pinched her face, burying herself further when she heard a buzzing in her ear. She must have let a fly in when she came through the window last night. Hopefully Amélie would forgive her for bringing in a new pet. 

“Winston is going to worry if you’re not at home,” she reminded her. 

“Left a note,” she mumbled. Sweat dripped down her back and between her breasts, the room growing hotter tenfold. 

She felt Amélie’s cool lips on hers, the taste of salt and blood on her lips. 

“Wake up, chérie.”

Her moment of peace abruptly ended as she inhaled, her aching body protesting against the movement. Her left shoulder twisted in sharp, fiery pain, her hip throbbing in a similar fashion. She slowly undid the clasp on her helmet, throwing it off and into the dust in front of her.

She squinted at the harsh sunlight, looking out at the horizon of rocks and parse vegetation. Shrapnel was littered around her like highway litter, glinting bright white against the beige sand. 

Lena spat out a mouthful of blood, the taste of copper continuing to swill in her mouth. She swung her head to the side, noticing the twisted metal rod that pinned her shoulder to the flight chair. The wound convulsed in pain, and she let out a choked scream at the sight of her pooling blood. Struggling to keep down the bile in the back of her throat, she forced her vision away from the injury and towards a nondescript rock. 

She tried to recall whatever had happened to her, a crash by her guess, but came up with nothing. The last thing she could remember was the control tower giving her the OK for take-off and the roar of the Slipstream’s engines in her ears.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


She didn’t remember the implosion until a week after the accident, when a plane flew over the base and the roar of engines threw her into a slew of memories. 

A month afterwards, the investigation on the Slipstream closed, the Air Force declaring that the accident was a hardware malfunction caused by debris in the atmosphere clogging exhaust. 

 

This wasn’t the first time she had spoken to him since Slipstream. Hell, she had talked to everyone at least once since she was found; two and a half months was a long time with nothing to do. 

She picked up the wired receiver, sucking in a deep breath as she mentally prepped herself. Her fingers hovered over the steel keys, worn down after decades of use. How many others had to make the same call as her? How many good pilots had to pick up the phone, call home, and tell their loved ones that they fucked up the  _ one thing _ they were good at?

Shame settled in like a ghost possessing a vessel while she punched in Winston’s number. 

“Winston Oxton, speaking,” he drawled.

“Hey, Winston, it’s Lena,” she forced a small smile, hoping it would make her sound chipper. “Did I wake you up?”

“Yes, and you should be in bed, too. I know what time it is there,” he scolded her. 

“I’m better at night,” she told him with a shrug. There weren’t any planes at night, except for stealth, and she couldn’t hear those. 

He sighed in exasperation. “Can this wait until morning?”

“Yeah,” she answered, “but it’d be better not to wait.”

“Alright, what is it you want to tell me?”

“What are you doing Wednesday?” She asked, dodging her own topic.

“Finish this call and go back to bed,” he replied with a yawn.

“No, later,” she explained, “like, in the afternoon.”

“I’ve got a lecture at 3, why?” He asked in curiosity.

“I need someone to pick me up from the airport at 3:30.” Stay vague, good idea, maybe she wouldn’t have to tell him. She could just keep this embarrassment a secret, and no one would have to be disappointed in her.

“Sorry, but you might have to ask someone else, if I’d known before that you had leave I would’ve scheduled around it but--”

“It’s not leave,” she interrupted, unable to keep her mouth shut. 

There was a pause as the words sunk in. 

“Then why are they letting you come home?” He asked cautiously. 

She wants to say it, to tell him and detach herself from the leech, but the shame and guilt of having her dreams crash and burn was sucking too much out of her. It took all her will to not break into tears over the phone and let the guilt consume her. She knew he would be disappointed, he’d tell her he knew she wouldn’t make it and that she should’ve gone to Purdue instead. 

Lena sucked in a deep breath, it was now or never.

She hung the receiver, ending the call and staving off the inevitable for another day. She wiped away unshed tears, stumbling back to her bunk for the last night. 

 

Winston arrived at the airport at 3:30 on the dot, parking the CR-V at the gate where he had picked her up after her tours, hoping it was the one she’d leave from.

When he began to think she had found another way home, he saw her stumble through the automatic doors in a daze.

Her dark hair, while usually a mess, was disheveled sticking out in ways it normally wouldn’t. Her skin was pale, dark bags hanging under half-lidded eyes. She slumped under the weight of her duffel bag and backpack, rolling her shoulder every so often. The only part of her uniform that she wore were her pants, a dirty undershirt replacing her shirt. Tapping a large set of yellow earmuffs, she scanned the rows of cars for her driver. 

Winston climbed out and took her duffel, guiding her to where his car was parked on the curb. She tilted her head at his arrival, but didn’t question it. 

She didn’t take the muffs off until they pulled into the driveway, ears red from keeping them on longer than necessary. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, staring at the floormat. 

“For what?” He watched as she pursed her lips and took in a ragged breath, closing her eyes.

“For hanging up,” she started, a sob breaking through, “and for being discharged.”

“Lena,” he exhaled, wrapping her in his arms as she broke down. 

“It was still honorable,” she mumbled through choked sobbing. “But they did it cuz of PTSD and now my license is being voided and I don’t know what to do. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Winston.”

He gave her a squeeze, rubbing her back as he quietly shushed her. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you have time to figure it out. Just give it time.”

He waited until she dissolved into hiccups and quiet tears, bunching his button-up in her fists. He kissed the top of her head, squeezing her right shoulder.

“I love you, Lena.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
